


Cheese Folk

by ElectraRhodes



Series: GHOSTS [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fandom loves Puerto Rico charity fundraiser fic, Gen, Oops, Post TWOTL, Season 1, We are all cheese folk, We learn a lot more about our good friend Franklyn, faster, honestly Franklyn run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraRhodes/pseuds/ElectraRhodes
Summary: A few chapters, a palimpsest if you will, during which we learn a lot more about Franklyn, a surprising amount about Tobias Budge and get an outsiders objective and totally expert insight into the relationship between Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.Set just before and during season one, and after TWOTL!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abby82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abby82/gifts).



> This is for the lovely abby82 who won a Prompt from me in the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico Auction. Thank you so much for supporting the auction and for a prompt about Franklyn.

“Franklyn. Listen. It’s not personal.”

“You’re referring me? I can’t believe this? You’re actually referring me?”

Dr Carruthers pinches the bridge of his nose and pushes his glasses up his face a little. Well, he’d known this wouldn’t go so well. Franklyn is.. Franklyn in a blessed mixture of neuroses and worries and concerns that make him any psychiatrist’s or therapist’s dream. However he is also easily influenced and becomes fixated. And has a terrible case of hero worship for practically anyone who shows him both a little compassion or what he sees as authority and a modicum of control over their own lives.

“I am. We’ve been over this. I’m not helping and you’re hurting. That’s not going to end well.”

“But that’s because you’re ending it? It’s been going fine!”

“That you think it’s been going fine is partly why it isn’t going fine.”

“I don’t understand this. It’s like I can’t win. You’re twisting my words.”

“I’m trying to reflect your words back to you, to show you how you think it is.”

“But how do you think it is?”

“I think it’s not fine.”

Franklyn heaves a great sigh, honestly, these psychiatrists get so tied in knots. And why can’t they just have a decent conversation. He’s a good conversationalist. Really. He’s an interesting guy. With a lot to say. And he’s a good listener too. Truly. He’s a great guy to be around. Even if he is a little neurotic.

“So you’re referring me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. But yes.”

“You were a referral.”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I’d like to think we’ve made some progress but we’re beginning to circle back and that’s not good. For either of us actually.”

“So you need to feel you’re helping me?”

Dr Carruthers tries not to frown,

“Franklyn, honestly? You’re not my therapist. That’s not your concern.”

“But why can’t I be concerned? I’m a concerned kind of guy. I’m worried for you.”

“When you come in the door of my office you don’t need to worry about me. That’s not what you’re here for.”

“You’re saying I’m not focussed on my therapy?”

“Not enough. Look. I have a few people I could recommend to you, to whom I could pass on a referral. Would it help if I told you a little about each of them? See if there’s someone who I think would make a good fit that you don’t immediately dislike the sound of?”

Franklyn shrugs looking just a little downcast, honestly Dr Carruthers thinks it’s a small triumph that he’s not actually crying.

Well. Not yet at least.

“I’ve four names for you. Though one I think isn’t in practice just currently.”

“Not a woman.”

Carruthers looks up at him sharply,

“Really? You’ve had two female therapists before.”

“I know. I kept thinking they were judging me, as a man.”

Slowly Carruthers replies,

“They almost certainly weren’t, in fact, I’d say that for sure, but if that’s how you feel before even meeting them...”

“And I’d be worried about maybe wanting to date them.”

“It can be hard to manage those boundaries but there are strict guidelines Franklyn. No one I recommend you to would even think about dating a patient. Even if you thought about dating them. And I hadn’t realised from our sessions you were necessarily interested in pursuing a heterosexual relationship.”

Franklyn stares at him,

“Why do people always assume I’m gay! I have female friends. I’ve dated. Why? Did I say something? What did I say?”

“You didn’t. It just hasn’t come up before. I hadn’t made any assumptions either way.”

Franklyn rolls his eyes, honestly what is it? He tries to dress nicely, he tries to be a nice man, he tries to be friendly and polite. And that makes him gay? For fucks sake. Everyone should behave like that. Male, female, non-binary, everyone. People.

“I’m not not gay. I’m just, well, I’m more interested in being friends than anything else.”

“You feel an absence of friendship.”

“It’s hard to make friends when you’re an adult.”

“Some might say it’s hard when you’re a child too.”

Franklyn frowns, actually it had been ok as a kid. He’d liked school, he’d done well enough to not be in trouble in class and not so well he stuck out. He had a little gang of friends, not jocks, but that didn’t matter so much in the liberal arts place his parents put him in in Manhattan. 

“If I’d stayed in New York it would be different. I had lots of friends there.”

“So why move?”

“My therapist said I was stuck in my comfort zone, I needed to branch out a little, grow wings. He might as well have said grow a pair.”

“So moving to Baltimore was manning up?”

“It was implied.”

“And you don’t like it here.”

“It’s fine. Just. I grew up in New York and it’s different here. Tell me about the referrals.”

Dr Carruthers takes him through the two remaining options if Franklyn is going to insist on it not being a woman. After ten minutes of discussion he makes some notes,

“Honestly? I think Dr Lecter will be helpful. And his background is a good match for you.”

Franklyn rolls his eyes,

“That’s what the last guy said about you.”

“Well I appreciate that.”

“How long will I have to wait?”

“I’d guess about four weeks. And we can fit another session in before then? How would that be.”

They shake on it and Franklyn pulls his coat on a little more snugly as he leaves, he glances up at the sky. Maybe rain later. He walks across the square opposite the doctor’s office and heads for the coffee shop where he often grabs something to go after a session.

He waits in the line wondering if he might try a little something new, maybe the seasonal thing, when someone bumps into him, their drink sloshing out of the stay-in cup they’re carrying and onto his sleeve, he glances across, and the man looks so apologetic any comment he might have made fades.

“I am so sorry. I apologise. I wasn’t paying attention. Let me get your drink for you.”

“It’s ok. People often don’t see me. I mean. It’s alright. It’s no biggie.”

“No, not at all. Let me. It’s the least I can do. I hope it won’t stain.”

“I’ve got a great dry cleaner. It’ll be fine.”

“You must send me the bill. Here. You order.”

Franklyn places an order and the man pays and then steers them towards a table in the window.

“So, I’m sorry about that. Let me give you a card. I mean it about the dry cleaning.”

He lays a small business card on the table “Tobias Budge. Chordophone Strings”. Franklyn looks up at him and smiles. He likes music. He’s a big fan. He can talk about music all day and every day, if he gets the chance.

The day just got a little better.


	2. Chapter 2

“So” Franklyn grins at his friend and stretches the word out. “ I found a new cheese shop today. They even do a range for lactose intolerants. I could get you a few slices to try?”

He tries not to glance down at his cotton carrier bag, the one with six different varieties of lactose free cheese wrapped in wax paper all waiting and ready. So that he can graciously hand it over, like the thoughtful friend he is. Franklyn’s friend Tobias smiles vaguely back,

“I don’t have the habit of it. It would be wasted on me. That after dinner spread? I’m better with a fruit plate.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. Honestly? If you didn’t like them. I could eat them.”

Tobias smiles a little more. Franklyn reminds him sometimes of a puppy his parents bought when he was just going into High School. Oh, he didn’t hurt it. For goodness sake. He’s not an idiot. He’s read those studies. Even right back then. And Tobias understands all about the importance of discipline, and of being organised. You can’t get good at an instrument without a modicum of talent and willingness to practice at least regularly. But the puppy was both an insight and an irritation; endlessly forgiving and loyal, and also unable to appreciate when it was being all just a bit too much.

He doesn’t want to kick Franklyn. Not yet. Because Franklyn is just like the puppy, and whilst Tobias can appreciate the loyalty and the illusion it creates it can all also quite simply, grate. And he’s a music teacher! He is practically the Webster’s definition of patient! So he tries not to over expose himself to Franklyn. Or vice versa. He can give Franklyn that at least. Though Tobias can feel the itch. The one that made him leave DC. Fast. And Portland. And Boston before that. Though at least one of these was only practice and doesn’t really count. Practice, as they say, makes perfect.

Tobias tunes back in to what Franklyn is saying. Oh yes. This new psychiatrist. Well, not so new now, a few months in. He counts back, oh, closer to six months actually. He wonders if the doctor is getting tired of Franklyn’s devotions. Still, at least he’s paid to listen.

“Of course, he’s very cultured and educated and interesting. He’s got a lot of books. I mean a real lot. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. I went past his house the other day. Big corner plot. Big square house. Funny colour though. Lots of room for books. I bet he’s got a whole room just for books. Wouldn’t that be something? Your own proper library? Nice place. Detached. The office is no slouch either. I think he must be old money? Don’t you think? You know? Old European money? I mentioned that didn’t I? Before? That he’s European. Explains some of it don’t you think? And he’s handsome I guess, tall, he dresses well. Easy enough if you’ve got the figure for it.”

Tobias interrupts, sometimes it is the only way to get Franklyn to take a breath,

“Franklyn, you dress well. Don’t dismiss your own efforts so easily.”

Franklyn looks so surprised and pleased that Tobias’ heart sinks just a little.

“Really? Do you think so? You always dress so well. You know how to put colours and patterns together. I don’t have the knack of it. I stick to the old tried and tested. My mom was always saying ‘Oh Franklyn, are you really wearing that?’ or ‘You can’t go out like that!’ just with this little sigh. Funny really. She used to pick my clothes out for me, come shopping with me, but I never had her flair.”

Tobias has quite a few things he’d like to say in response, none very flattering to Mrs Froidveaux. But she has a kind of sanctity in Franklyn’s mind and Tobias knows to leave well alone. As she’s now longer in this vale of tears as Franklyn had so coyly put it. He goes for another tack,

“What about your siblings?”

Franklyn takes a long slurp of his iced coffee. He’s got a straw. A straw always gives something a holiday feel. Something frivolous. Like Gatsby. And a ridiculous party.

Of course he knows that the great Jay Gatsby was a fictitious character and isn’t that just the biggest shame? That would have been Franklyn’s era. Wow, he’d have been fantastic then, all pinstripes and two-tone spats, maybe a fedora. And an overcoat thrown loosely over his shoulders. And god he’d have been such a great friend. He’d have saved Jay and Daisy, helped them not make such a mess of everything. He would have made sure it all worked out. And no one would have had to die. He realises Tobias is looking at him expectantly and he smiles brightly.

“Don’t you ever feel it would be just swell if you could just live in a book and make sure they get it all right?”

Tobias blinks. Just sometimes, just often enough really, Franklyn says something that is so out of left field that it helps him make sense of their, well, friendship is as close a word as could describe it that he can come up with. He says something so unexpected and interesting and mostly unlikely, and it is kind of intriguing. And honestly? Truly? It’s why Franklyn is still alive. That and despite the practice he still hasn’t quite got the recipe right and he wouldn’t want to waste all that lovely, lovely gut.

Franklyn seems to realise Tobias asked him a question he didn’t quite answer.

“My sibs? Woah! They are really something else again? You got time? Because I’ve got stories!”

Tobias nods. Maybe they’d come visit? Or maybe he could take a little trip. To Manhattan, as a side project. He’d go anywhere for the music. Franklyn grins,

“Hold onto your hat. Ok. So tyromancy? I told you about that right? Divination by cheese?”

Tobias nods. And really that is an actual thing. He’s checked. He settles in. When Franklyn isn't being a neurotic self-obsessed wreck he can be quite a fount of stories and even wit. He smiles encouragingly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drove through Franklin North Carolina yesterday and it put me in mind of this guy. How I love Franklyn.

As he walks down the steps from the office he manages not to stumble. Wide eyed and a little trembly he crosses the road and walks along the street to the corner. He waits at the crossing for a moment and when the lights turn he all but scampers across.

On the far side he heads straight for a nearby coffee place that manages a decent straight up espresso and won’t question his request for three extra shots. Well. Only a small raise of a brow as if to query his caffeine intake at this hour.

Inside he manages to get his order out, just the coffee and a small pastry that’s as dispirited as the other folks in the cafe at the ass end of the day, and after he’s paid and the barista has managed the drink with a little half hearted flourish, end of a long shift Franklyn suspects, he slumps into a seat. Not his favourite, sadly that’s occupied by some pullover wearing hipster staring morosely into his laptop. Probably a writer Franklyn thinks, probably trying for the next great American novel. He should offer to help. He’d be great as a sounding board. Or he should write something himself. He could do that. He’s got at least one novel inside of him. Maybe a whole series. Something that would help people, he’s got insight. He can carry a tale.

With a steadying breath he fiddles with the napkin and it reminds him of the tissue he crumpled onto Dr Lecter’s side table. Why did he do that? It’s exactly the kind of thing that’d just annoy the doctor. And he definitely caught it. Franklyn saw the look. Really it should come in air quotes, ‘the look’ and be trademarked. He sighs. The attention was nice though. And he did at least pick it up and pocket it after. He wouldn’t have just left it. That’d be just impolite and inconsiderate. And that’s not him. Heck he even sweeps up other people’s messes. He’s that kind of guy.

As he drinks his coffee he feels a little better. The pastry is ok. A little dry and someone got carried away with the cinnamon frosting, but it’s alright, all told. Quite palatable. When he’s done, the worry he’d carried with him has somewhat dissipated. But! And here’s the thing. Who was that guy? Apart from all kinds of terrifying? And why did he want to see the doctor? Is it because he’s a foreigner? In which case he could be in all kinds of hassle. And what can he do to help? Dr Lecter might be amazingly competent in all kinds of ways, but US immigration is a minefield. Maybe he knows someone. Or maybe it’s taxes, well Franklyn’s brother is the best, wouldn’t take a moment to introduce them. Or something worse? Maybe the doctor has a friend in trouble. 

He sighs a little, the doctor won’t want to be a burden, there’s almost zero chance he’ll explain. Ok. So. What do we do when our friends are hurting and they don’t like to say? Well, we find a way to help don’t we? If we’re a good friend? We make sure they know they can tell us anything. And maybe drop a few hints. So they know they can talk to us, that we won’t be all judgey like some people are. He feels much better as he thinks it through.

When he leaves the cafe he makes sure he first sweeps all the little crumbs on the table onto his plate. See? Considerate.

..........................................

Tobias frowns. Then his face clears and he smiles so that the persuasive note carries in his voice.

“It should be a fine recital. And I already have the tickets.”

At the other end of the line he hears Franklyn’s acquiescence. 

“Good. Thank you. And supper before hand? Shall we say six?”

They finish the call with the usual back and forth and Tobias slowly puts the handset back in its cradle. If the doctor gains too much of a foothold in Franklyn’s life then it is inevitable he will ask questions when Franklyn’s also now inevitable time comes. And that won’t do at all. It’s already a tenuous dynamic. Franklyn has almost certainly spoken of him in a session. So, this might be considered a little pre-emptive action on his part. And from what Franklyn has said this is just the kind of event to attract the doctor. And it won’t take much to nudge his friend into making an introduction. Tobias smiles.

.......................................

 

Franklyn finishes off his bow tie with a smirk. He’s rather proud he can still tie one. None of this ready made fasten with a button business. His dad set him right on that front in his teens. Maybe a bar mitzvah? Not his, maybe one of his brothers. Yeah. Probably. All of them lined up in a row for pictures. Looking like those nesting dolls, him right there in the middle, all beaming faces and bow ties. Nice.

He flicks the edges out. Yeah. Smart without being flashy. Good job Franklyn, he mentally high fives himself.

He locks his front door, it’s a good enough neighbourhood but you shouldn’t tempt people. Kinda unfair, not everyone can resist easy pickings after all. So he tries. Tries to make sure he’s a good neighbour. Tries to keep an eye out. Hey, he thinks, being a little neurotic can be a good thing. Keeps you aware doesn’t it? On the look out for potential trouble. Maybe he should ask Dr Lecter about that? Maybe that’s a useful thought? He makes himself a mental note as he gets into the town car he ordered and which has arrived on time.

As he makes his way across town he chats with the driver, nice guy, funny, got a dry line in critiquing current traffic planning and leasing and the like. Sure it sounds a little rehearsed but what’s a driver going to do Franklyn thinks? And he could make a whole patter of it. Do standup? Maybe the guy already does it, maybe he’s practising? And he’s a great audience. Attentive. Know the cues. Good at picking them up. He laughs when the driver makes a particularly witty kinda comment about zoning. Yeah. Straight up, he’d come to this guy’s first show no hesitation, right in the front row laughing fit to bust.

When he gets out of the car he tips the guy and waves him off. Then makes his way into the restaurant where he’s agreed to meet Tobias. He looks around. Nice. Good wallpaper, restrained carpeting, decent crockery and flatware on the tables. There’s a little buzz of conversation. A nice place. Tobias has brought him to a nice place. Looks like there are other concert goers in having an early supper.

He smiles at the maitre d.

“Here with a friend. Reservation name of Budge?”

And isn’t that just the nicest thing? To be meeting a friend? A friend who likes you enough to book a table at a decent place where you’re a part of the crowd. Where you fit in. Franklyn looks around. This is pretty swell. He smiles broadly as the server escorts him to the table where Tobias is waiting.

Yeah. Pretty swell.


	4. Chapter 4

As they squeeze into their seats Franklyn takes a good look around him, and isn’t this just an interesting crowd. Further ahead of him he can just see Dr Carruthers. Well that’s nice he’s getting out and about, having some down time, enjoying himself. Off to one side he can see a few people that he recognises primarily from the society pages. He glances beside him where Tobias is steadily reading the programme notes.

“She’s supposed to be really good. The soprano. Big voice. Should fill this place don’t you think.”

Tobias makes a noncommittal noise still absorbed in what he is reading.

“Good crowd too. Nice to be in the gallery. Nice backdrop, kinda classy? Chairs are ok, not too rigid. Means people won’t fidget. If they’re uncomfortable. I mean, hard to be uncomfortable if the music’s real good. Kind of transports you doesn’t it? If it’s that good. You forget everything else.”

Tobias glances at his friend.

“That’s true. Yes. I believe so. Good music transcends the mundanity of our existence.”

Franklyn looks at him in surprise. Of all the people he knows Tobias does not live what he thinks of as a mundane life.

“But you’ve got so much. The shop. The students. The reputation. You’ve made it. Truly. I’m proud to call you my friend.”

Tobias twitches the smallest of smiles at him. 

“Friendship? Well. Yes. I’m not sure I have the knack for it. There aren’t so many people I think I could turn to in a crisis. And isn’t that the definition of a friend? Someone who’d help you bury the bodies?”

Franklyn blinks at him a little and looks around the wide open space, longer than it is broad, with a raised dais at the end for the singer.

“Well of course. Isn’t that what we’d all say. I mean. Preferably not a real body, but you know. If there was no other choice.” He frowns a little. “I’d help you. Of course I would. Hey, don’t look like that. I’m just kidding. No bodies required for me to prove I’m a good friend.”

Tobias returns to the programme and Franklyn peers further across the central aisle and down from where they are seated, he drops his voice into a loud whisper.

“Hey. Hey Tobias. There’s Dr Lecter. You know. My psychiatrist. The one I told you about. Not the previous one. The current one. European. Good suits?”

Tobias looks up again. Ahh yes. There he is. His own personal antenna gives a little twitch. Well isn’t that interesting. Maybe the good doctor deserves a little more special attention.

.............................

 

Franklyn blinks hard as they both pull on coats and scarves and make their way outside. He does up his last button and makes sure to hold the door for Tobias. Politeness is the privilege of princes. Isn’t that how it goes. Well something like that. It’s what his mom used to say. And if it isn’t it should be. He looks up at the dark twinkling sky. Who would they name the constellations after these days he wonders. Who’d be the modern heroes. Maybe some great artists, or writers, or composers. Yeah. Maybe. He crinkles his nose. More likely some pop star, or actor, or Saturday night host. Oh he’s not a snob, maybe that’s what you do, name the actual stars after the current stars. He considers this a little more. Well. Really that’s what the old guys did, isn’t it. Jupiter was the star of his day. The great big superhero. He tunes back into what Tobias is saying. Something about the night bus.

“Brr. Chilly. I’ve got a car coming, you want I could drop you off?”

Tobias pauses for a moment. Certainly that would be convenient. And if Franklyn has a driver then there is next to no chance he will angle for an invitation in.

“That’s kind. Thank you. Does he know to meet you here?”

Franklyn looks down to the bottom of the stone steps that lead up to the gallery.

“I said a little ways along. Not far. Make it easier for him to pull up. And wait. If he needed to. Do you think it’s going to snow?”

“I think it might be too cold to. Shall we?”

They walk along the sidewalk and Tobias slows when he realises that Dr Lecter is just a little ahead of them, walking with some haste towards a downmarket sedan. Not the kind of car he’d have had the doctor marked down for. He’d have pegged him as more of a Daimler, or a fancy Jaguar, or even a Bentley. Not this beige and nondescript thing. 

He sees the doctor raise a hand in greeting as a guy gets out of the driver’s seat and stands waiting at the car, leaning against it a little. The exhaust billowing out the back suggests that whoever he is the driver has left the engine idling.

Tobias slows a little more when he sees the guy smile at the doctor and then accept a kiss from him. Not a hello thank you for collecting me European kind of kiss. More of a fuck it’s freezing but I’m pretty pleased to see you so I will wait in the cold for a couple of moments kind of kiss. A proper kiss that neither of them seem remotely embarrassed about.

He watches as the doctor goes round to the passenger side of the car and tucks his coat around him neatly as he gets in. Before the door shuts and the little light inside goes out he sees both men lean towards each other across the central console. Well, isn’t that interesting.

He wonders if Franklyn knows.

....................................

 

Franklyn, it transpires does not know.

“Well good for him. Must be a lonely kind of job. Can’t date your patients you know. There are rules about that. Can’t be easy for him to meet people. Compatible people. I bet he spends all his time hanging out with other psychiatrists. Maybe that FBI guy who came to see him introduced them.”

Tobias looks at him carefully.

“I had thought you might be holding a small flame for him?”

“Who Dr Lecter? Well. He’s an attractive kind of guy. But you know what they say, gotta decide if you wanna be with him or be like him. Or be liked by him. One of those. Anyway. I can be happy for him. I can.” He pauses for quite a while. “I wonder who the guy is?”

Tobias watches him. And wonders if the next thing he hears is that Franklyn is trying to make friends with Dr Lecter’s love interest. That would be just like him. He sighs. It is another complication.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you think it was too much? It was too much. I think it was too much. Don’t you think?”

Tobias looks at his friend. He takes a careful sip of his tea. It is almost at exactly the right temperature and it would be a shame to miss the fine moment when every aspect of it is in perfect harmony. He takes another mouthful. Across the table from him Franklyn sighs again. Really, when he gets going he can monologue for New York.

“I only asked if he’d like to come to the after party. He just sat there and blinked at me. Did I tell you that? He does this thing where his face goes really still. Like you have to look at his hands to see what his face is hiding? Anyway he looked a bit reluctant. Like he was worried I was asking him on a date of all things.”

Tobias focuses a little.

“What did you say to him?”

“Oh well. I just, you know. I kinda told him I knew he was dating. He looked a bit shocked at that to be honest. I’m not sure if it’s meant to be a secret or something. Or he just doesn’t like to talk about it. But he knows I’m not prejudiced. He must do. Doesn’t he? Anyway, his boyfriend, I guess you’d call him, turned up at the end. Just as I was getting my coat. He was a bit upset. So was Dr Lecter.”

Tobias thinks of a certain offering in a certain symphony hall.

“Oh yes? Is he Police?”

Franklyn shrugs and takes a large mouthful of his skinny latte chocolate macchiato abomination.

“Feds I think. He works for the big guy. Or something. Dr Lecter consults.”

Tobias frowns at him. He cannot imagine any circumstances that might possibly occur in which Hannibal Lecter might have deigned to tell Franklyn any of this. He eyes his friend closely and is satisfied when Franklyn wriggles a little uncomfortably under his gaze, like a bug stuck on a pin.

“Franklyn?”

There is a pause where Franklyn takes a somewhat defiant bite of the muffin he has bought to counterpoint his terrible choice in coffee. It is lemon poppy seed. A reasonable choice Tobias thinks, but not with that particular choice in coffee. He retreats to the delights of his own bergamot and lavender macaron and his tea, earl grey, hot. He smiles a little to himself at his own whimsy.

Franklyn mumbles something and Tobias decides, in that moment, that tonight is the night he will make sure to follow the good doctor on one of his jaunts. Of course he might just be visiting his ‘boyfriend’ as Franklyn so coyly put it. But he might not, and Tobias’ antennae had given a jolly good jolt in Hannibal Lecter’s presence.

.................................

 

And who knew that bus stations, in the shattered cold of a winter night, could be quite so interesting?

..................................

 

So too is the invitation to dinner.

 

...................................

 

And isn’t that a disappointment when it all comes down to it. And he didn’t even get dessert. Though he expects that the Dr Lecter’s friend certainly did. And then some.

...................................

Franklyn sits opposite his psychiatrist and frowns.

“But you were a referral?!”

He raises his hands in a small imprecation. As if some kind of pleading might help the doctor see his way clear to something less, well, terminal.

He sighs.

“At least don’t give me the ‘It’s not you it’s me’ speech.”

Hannibal quirks his head to one side.

“I hadn’t planned to.”

“So it is me. Yeah. I get it. Alright. So, what, one more after this while I wait for the referral?”

“If that is what you’d prefer.”

He tries not to lay the sarcasm on too thick when he says.

“I’d prefer not to have to start over with another therapist. But I can see you’re uncomfortable with this. So. Well.” He pauses. “What I’d like, if it’s acceptable is to have just a little time to talk about my friend Tobias.”

Hannibal could almost admire his tenacity. He is like one of Will’s dogs. The little one, with the cheeky look. Once he’s gripped hold of something he wants he just can’t let go, will worry it to death given half the chance.

None the less it is still a surprise when Tobias arrives, a little blood about the ear, which, when Tobias admits he just killed two men, gives Hannibal a violent start.

Whatever he thought he was doing this is not, in the cold clear light of day, welcome news of any kind. And anyway, the way Will told it, it could almost have been Alana’s fault.

But first to deal with Franklyn.

............................

Franklyn, when he looks down at his broken body considers it, at one remove, in a quizzical sort of way. Isn’t it odd how you see yourself in a mirror and never as you really are. Always in reverse. It’s why he looks so peculiar in photographs he thinks. And why he hardly recognises himself right now. He watches as Tobias and Dr Lecter circle each other and winces when one or the other land a particularly nasty blow. They don’t seem to be able to see him rooting first for one and then for the other. Really he’d make an excellent commentator.

“Oh and Lecter didn’t seem to see that hook coming, though some neat footwork saw him dodge the follow through. Oh and Budge has made an almost fatal mistake there, though his recovery is a wonderful thing to see. Ooooh. That’s nasty. Oh. Not sure he’ll be getting up from that one any time soon. Nope. Not with that nice bronze stag being tag teamed. Go team elk. And he’s out.”

He waits a moment and then sees his friend leak his life out onto Dr Lecter’s nice Persian rug. Blood’s so hard to get out. It’s going to leave a terrible stain. He watches as the doctor limps to the chair behind his desk and sits, then takes serval deep breaths to steady himself, and makes a phone call.

.........................

Honestly, Franklyn thinks, as he watches various crime scene techs lift up his stilled body, that big Agent has the right idea. The boss guy. It is more complicated. And isn’t that the thing, finally, finally people can see he’s interesting, has a story to tell. He watches as his doctor’s boyfriend leans in and wipes a little blood off his face and they smile a small smile at each other.

Well, he thinks, well. His grandmother always used to say that a ghost wasn’t anything but unfinished business. And he and Dr Lecter? That’s about as unfinished as it comes. He pauses in his thought processes and wonders if they have cheese in heaven.


	6. Chapter 6

What they don’t tell you in Shul, or in the books, or even in myths, urban or otherwise, is that when you die, there’s a party. A proper, centre of attention but you’re not embarrassed in the slightest and you look your best, actual party. With cake. Your favourite kind, whatever that is and no one questions your taste. Peanut butter and chocolate cheese-cake in his case. A party then, a nice party, with cake. And everyone is actually pretty nice to you.

Franklyn gapes at the people crowding in. Some of them he recognises from his childhood; family or friends that went on before; a few from college or from the neighbourhood when he lived in New York; and some from Baltimore.

There’s a whole bunch of people he doesn’t know, varying ages, races, ethnicities and with varying distinguishing features, but for all that they seem kinda faintly familiar he doesn’t seem to know them personally, in the slightest. He slides round the ‘room’; is it really room if the ceiling is sort of indistinct and might be the night sky, and the walls may or may not be vague and nebulous gassy things that people can walk through; and after a few discreet enquiries he finds out who they are.

It turns out they’re all victims of Hannibal Lecter. Well. That’s. Well. That’s not what he was expecting in the slightest. And they’re all remarkably friendly. And apparently it’s a bit of a thing that they all turn up at the newest person’s deathday party.

It turns out that they’re more than just deathday crashers, they’re more like a bit of a social club too. He goes along to the musical soirée the first week and bumps into Tobias.

“Hey! hey! I’m sorry. What happened to you? I thought you must have made it. You know? Resuscitated in the ambulance. You didn’t come to my party.”

Tobias looks a little uncomfortable.

“Ahh. Yes. Well. I was going to but in the end I had to go to mine.”

There’s a bit of a pause and Franklyn takes pity on his friend.

“Oh. That must have been a bit, well. Tricky? I’m guessing some of the guys you errr. Well I guess they were there? This girl, nice, dark hair, wind chafed, chews gum?” Tobias shrugs his shoulders slightly. “Anyway. She clued me in. If you’ve been killed you get to hang out with other victims until the killer dies and then you get to have a bit of a I don’t know. She said it was like a courtroom thing.”

“I think we might call it a tribunal.”

“Yeah. That. I think that’s it. So. Was that what it was like? Were there a few? I'm sorry. You never really said.”

Tobias nods. It is not his happiest memory, though even that thought in this strange place is fading at the edges.

“Let’s just say I am now questioning some of my choices.”

Franklyn face widens in an ‘O’ of question.

“Do you, do you have to make up for it in some way? Do penance.”

Tobias’ face screws into a kind of consternation of regret.

“I think we might call it that. Yes.”

Franklyn suddenly grins.

“Well I am sorry and all that, but hey we get to hang out. So. What do you reckon for tonight? It’s a pianist Dr Lecter killed because he screwed up some accompaniment on a nightly basis for a few months?”

Tobias nods sadly. Whatever else he thinks of Hannibal Lecter he did have impeccable taste in music. He manages a faint smile at Franklyn.

Penance indeed.

....................................

 

Franklyn quite enjoys heaven. He’s not entirely sure that’s where he is, but it’s something and he has access to all the music and food and friends and nice clothes he could want. And there are libraries where you don’t get fined when you forget to return your book for a few months. And there are coffee shops where no one gives you a look if you hog the best table for more than twenty minutes at a time. And the air is unpolluted. And the cab drivers are ok. And he’s even got to hang out with some of his favourites (and yes, he and Michael are good friends in this afterlife, he’d been 100 percent right about that), and listen to some of the greatest minds ever. Honestly the visiting lecturer TED talk programme is amazing!

He also gets to keep an eye on his former therapist. 

And oooh boy is that guy busy. Franklyn can’t help but marvel at his time management skills.

So he goes to Georgia Madchen’s deathday party, and Donald Sutcliffe’s, he goes to a somewhat odd celebration of Miriam Lass’s arm. And wow. A tree! And then he gets the invite to Beverly Katz’s deathday. And he’s rather sad about that. Honestly, Dr Lecter should have left that well alone, that’s not going to go down well with his boyfriend. And yes, well, how was he to know what he was getting in between there? How were any of them to know about that?

He watches as Hannibal’s life unspools over twelve short weeks. And then he goes to Abigail’s party.

And he feels genuinely truly sad about how that all fell out. And then he introduces her to Beverly Katz.

He feels a bit better about that.

.......................................

The next few parties are more or less as he expects, though the victims and their display demonstrate an occasional return to some of Hannibal’s previous flare. There’s an interesting and mildly acerbic academic and his wife, a poet who seems especially proud of his own corpse, and a particularly smug professor. No one likes Professore Sogliato, but he wears a tux beautifully. And he knows it.

And then there’s Mason Verger.

Now Franklyn doesn’t like to speak ill of the dead, especially as they’re some of his closest friends but there’s not much nice he can think of to say about Mason Verger. When they first meet he tries out a few things in his own head. But not even in the great broad overflowing atriums of his heart can he find a warm feeling for him. Ah well. Even for Mason there will be some kind of reckoning, Franklyn has come to believe, in this at least. 

And then there’s a rejection of quite epic proportions and Franklyn wonders if this is what it is like to see someone slowly quietly die of a broken heart, dying by increments.

The next few years are quiet. He goes to other parties. More of his own family. People from college. A colleague who dies after an incautious mix of alcohol, painkillers and a night spent in a not quite warm enough bus shelter waiting for a bus that didn’t come on time.

And then he’s invited to a party for a Dragon. And in the moments that follow he watches and waits to see if he’ll be invited to another. Or to a tribunal.

If he had breath to hold, he’d be counting down from twenty.

Alright then. That’s how it’s going to go.

He smiles. And checks his social calendar.

...............................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading.
> 
> If you love Franklyn as much as I do the good news is that chapter two of ‘the ghosts in the garden’ continues this story!
> 
>  
> 
> I post fairly regularly.. and post updates to twitter electra_rhodes. I’m giving up tumblr in the light of the great tumblrgeddon of Dec 2018. But I’ll still be here.
> 
> I hope to see you again. Xxx


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